Stupid Cheeks

This is a mini blog. 

Okay, next.

I'm on week four of being a Christian camp counselor.

Okay, next. 

Begin reading.

Walking into Starbucks on my time off, I had this weird feeling something was missing... If you've ever been a counselor or a parent, you know what I'm talking about.  It's this sensation that there is LITERALLY nobody behind you, and it's not normal.  I catch myself turning around every minute to make sure there are still twenty-two pairs of eyes and legs shuffling behind me.  When you're leading a flock of sweating, laughing, and corn-dog-filled-campers around a land where the term "Oakhaven" means getting food, "Cracker Barrel" means chaos and milkshakes, and "Fundatory" means exactly what you thinking- fun AND mandatory, your life gets consumed by childlike joy.  I say this is a "mini" blog, because I don't have much time to spit this out.  But, honestly, the best part of my job (if I can even call it that), is challenging myself to be more like a child.  I want to have that precious faith Jesus talks about.  I want to be careful not to be "childish" but strive to be "childlike".   It's easy in a world of theology, philosophy, and other studies that try to answer such big questions, to rely on answers and not faith.

Adults think it's cute when kids believe in something that doesn't make sense.  I think it's brave.  I think knowing answers is important, but I think asking questions is beautiful.  I've recently been asked by many people, "What if at the end, this whole 'Christianity' thing isn't real?"  

I don't know.  That's why it's called, "faith". 

Some people would answer, "then I lived with good morals and had peace."  But I think that's a "by default" reason. 

I refuse to have that "by default" faith. 

I'm going to trust He is real, and at the end, I didn't "happen to live well"... because maybe I didn't.

Maybe, I was uncomfortable. 

Maybe, I had a lot of pain.  

Maybe, I hurt others. 

Instead, "I lived a life where I put faith into something bigger than myself.  Something so mysterious and powerful, I can't explain it."  

And thank goodness, for that.  Thank goodness a mind like mine, very similar to yours, doesn't have all the answers.  Thank goodness, a frizzy, nose-ring-wearing, college student who still shoots snot rockets and misses her aim, can't look up all the science facts and explain all doubts in the world. Thank goodness truth isn't tangible. 

Thank goodness there is a supernatural God that isn't limited to human minds and abilities.  I'm thankful and satisfied daily with the unexplainable.  

I've learned never to trust something you know everything about, because that in itself is contradicting. 

Here's what I do know:

I know we aren't here to die.  I know I have a purpose.  And I believe the explanation is a God that loves, cherishes, protects, and gives me life.  

If you say it's ignorant, and I need to spend more time searching.  I have.  I've tried to doubt God.  It just proved empty and desperately dry. My stomach ached.  I couldn't sleep.  I had anxiety.  I felt worthless.  And it lasted less than month.  

It's childish to tell our Dad, "Nah, I'm good.  I can go through this divorce, alcoholism, finical burden, death, depression... on my own"

It's childlike to humble ourselves, and admit, "Dad, I'm broken.  I'm so messy.  I hurt people and I'm hurt by people.  Forgive me, and give me life, please. I'm desperate."

I don't believe in perfection.  I believe in honesty.  

Jesus wasn't crucified on the cross for the pure.

I'm voluneralbe and I'm honest.  There are moments at camp, a kid's chubby stupid cheeks, the way she pushes her stupid tongue out of her stupid mouth, and squeals/whines/cries with her stupid voice about how she didn't get another turn on the stupid swing, can annoy me.

But the patience I'm learning with these innocent children, is minuscule compared to the patience He has with me and my whiney complaining doubts about His character... for nineteen years. 

I'm so unworthy.  

He's so perfect. 

Dialogue

 According to a Facebook link (always credible) we spend 70-80% of our time communicating.  That communication includes writing, reading, listening, and speaking.  And if you’re anything like me, you repeat dialogue in your head.   

**Directed to strangers I had just "met"  
(side note, "met" is such a strong word.  I mean, "eavesdropping"  "meeting" it's all interchangeable)
((side note on the side notes, there will be  a lot of side notes))

“Well, hey! (A lot of bit too loudly)

Good luck on your son... (Quietness stilled the restaurant.  Because nobody, including I, knew how to take that comment. Especially because he’s 22—not a sick newborn… just a man graduating from college.)

Huh… (Me verbally realizing I should probably, “ABORT MISSION!”)

Happy late birthday! (To the wife whom I immediately embarrassed just by making eye contact, instead of shoving sushi where my words were spilling out)

 Oh! And happy early birthday!... ?” (To the husband who didn’t have patience for his meal being cooked literally in front of him, let alone a raspy-voiced-frizzy-haired me yelling at him in a [nice] restaurant. Especially when his birthday is four moths away…. Don’t ask how I know that.)

 It gets worse… I touched them.  That’s right, I awkwardly touched two adult strangers on the shoulders in a patting manner. When I realized what I was doing was inappropriate half way through the arm extension, I tried to retrieve, but it was too late.  As they were walking towards the exit (which I unconsciously blocked with my obnoxious body) their bodies collided with my aggressive arm. And before I knew it, the pat happened.  You know that “pat”.  The one that acquaintances, coaches, teachers, or pastors give to kids when they’re proud.  It’s affection in a very innocent and childlike manner.  I gave the pat to adult strangers. Ugh. 

In just one sentence (if you call it that), I single handily made the entire right side of a restaurant, my waiter (who didn’t find my jokes funny, and burned me with rice), and two very confused adults feel violated. 

Dialogue. 

The sad thing is, that was just last night. And honestly, fumbling of words occurs way more often than should.  I have yelled at a pizza boy and made the whole restaurant stop in fear, all because I asked for spinach and olives on my pizza a little too aggressively. (Dang it, Giada!  Look what I get for a good source of vitamin K and heart-healthy unsaturated fats) I have made fun of the movie Frozen to people directly related to the animators of the movie… Frozen (Honestly, I’m proud that particular bounce-back).  I have publically humiliated my crush in front of the entire school, including but not limited to my senior speech.  Me asking a kid at a bounce-house day camp “Hey, sweetie! When’s your birthday?”  “July 2” “JULY 2?!?!? NO WAY!! Wanna know something really weird about July 2?”  “WHAT!?” “My hamster died on July 2 during a Hannah Montana episode, and the now the song, “Start All Over” is ironic.  You know?.”  “…. Can I bounce now?”  “Sure thing!"

Communication is key.  I know these are horror stories for most introverts who do that thing… what’s it called?  Oh! Thinking before you talk. However, as bad as these stories get, and trust me when I say, these aren’t the worst, I love my commutation skills.  “How the heck are you proud of your communication skills, Chloe?”  Good question, random reader who probably didn’t care to ask, but because I typed it out and you’re reading it, you just asked…  I’ll tell you.  See, as bad as these get.  I would relive all of my awkward tasteless blurts of questions, opinions, and assumptions because—aside from these moments—I’ve seen real growth and healing through communication.  Not just communication but specifically, confrontation.

 I’ve heard a lot of girls (and boys) say, “oh, we never fight” when describing their friendships or relationships.  And, yes, I do think to an extent, there is something to be said about compatibility.  One can’t even call it a “friendship” if there isn’t any friendliness.  But I heard a pastor say, “relationships are about sacrifice.”  As I sat in a Cheetos and conflict-free chocolate covered back seat of a bumpy van, I realized how relevant and powerful those words are in all relationships—parental, friendship, and romantic.  Are you willing to give up your pride?  Are you willing to change your dreams for another (even if they don’t ask)?  Are you willing to risk a fight for a better future?   Are you willing to sacrifice your comfort and trade it in for awkwardness?  Are you willing to sacrifice your temper even if somebody is smacking a banana and peanut butter in your ear at 2 am while you’re trying to study and simultaneously learn all the lyrics to the new Selena Gomez song?  (Trust me, my temper is one of the hardest things for me to sacrifice).  However, these are just cute words on a “feeling crafty” canvas posted on Instagram, but it means nothing if you don’t realize the power of confrontation this requires.  How will you ever be able to improve, give up, work on, work through, or forgive, if it’s never brought up?

Something I’ve been honored and blessed with is community.  Community looks different for everybody.  I have about seven very close friendships.  I love each of them very dearly.  Some friendships were born in the depths of smelly puberty filled hall-ways and green eye shadow yearbook photos (aka middle school), and others I met in college doing sophisticated things like coffee dates, philosophical debates, and stealing ducks from the local pond and putting it in Allen Hall 410’s bathroom. 

(i.e. green eye shadow)

Either way, my pastor said, the best friendships are never the easiest ones—they’re the hardest.  If you’re not being challenged to grow, experience, and share they aren’t, by definition, friends.  They’re affirmation buddies.   Yes, “we’ve never fought” sounds cute and maybe on looks good on a resume, but the deepest talks, the best memories, and the purest relationships are the ones willing to get messy in awkward fumbling of words and screaming fits.  Of course, it’s a given, make sure when confronting somebody, it’s with a pure heart and intientions to grow.  “Um… so here’s the deal, I was thinking we should confront some issues.  FOR STARTERS, COULD YOU LIKE NOT CRY TO YOUR MOM SO LOUDLY?  IT REALLY ANNOYS ME WHEN YOUR TEARS WAKE ME UP.  Okay, this was great. Thanks so much.”  This might require a day or so to pray about, but seek and God’s going to give you wisdom.  Trust me, I have to ask all the time… 

Cheesy Picture of Friendship 

Scripture on Biblical confrontation and communication:          

Galatians 6:1-10

2 Timothy 3:16

Matthew 18:15-20

Give Me a Peace of that Good Life

I know in college it's really popular to plan things.  You plan your semester.  You plan your weeks.  You plan your days.  You plan your binge eating of Little Debbie snacks.  You plan the fifth time to brush your teeth. You plan your photo shoot for your next album cover.  You plan when you're going to water your cacti.  You plan on crying in the corner of the library, because you watch a way-too-emotional McDonalds commercial about McLovin' people, and there's beef jerky stuck in your teeth, and you're trying to communicate to the person next to you that you're alright, but while your trying not to not show your teeth or breath on them, you fail to realize they aren't asking if you're okay--they're asking you to shut up.  

Wait. No. We don't plan on that happening.  Yet, it still does.  Life still happens. 

Twenty-nine years old, single, head full of dreads, and standing at almost six feet tall, meet Morgan.  Morgan works nine months out of the year.  She travels the other three.  "I pack a backpack.  I pick a place to visit.  I recommend, Finca Magdalena de Ometepe.  And I find a couch to crash on--a friend of a friend's great-grandma."  So you just pack up and leave by yourself?  "Yep.  Submerge yourself in a new culture, and you'll grow in ways you didn't know were possible."

Besides traveling advice, what I really took away from talking with this new friend of mine, is this simple truth: everybody has a different path. 

If you asked Morgan if she thought she would be single and still traveling at twenty-nine, she would say no.  But she said, "I'm so blessed.  I have cheap living expenses and stable job that allows me to do what I love."  What about your relationship life?  "That's non existent.  But when I'm ready, I'll be happy with that lifestyle, too."  

She loves her life.  And some would look at it and say, "No way. not for me."  But that's just it.  It's not yours to have, even if you wanted it. And good thing, because I can think of about ten of my friends who would look horrible in dreads. Ew. Like I wouldn't be their friend anymore. Gross.(just kidding. I only have four friends.) But Morgan rocks it.  I'll still be friends with Morgan. Even though I don't know how to say her last name, and we will never see each other again.  

I've been studying the Fruits of the Spirit lately, and one thing I've found interesting is Joy isn't as close to happiness as we think. In fact, I've found Joy is closest to peace.  It's not saying "I'M GOING TO SMILE WHEN MY GRANDMA DIES! HAHAH YEAH! DEATH!"  Heck, Jesus cried even when He knew He would save Lazarus moments later.  It's saying, even when things don't go as planned, find peace and contentment in where you are now that's true Joy. 

Dreams are huge. And I'm not advocating "don't dream and have goals".  I've wanted to be in the Peace Corps since I was ten years-old, and I hope I do that.  (I met with them this week, and I'm on the right track!)  However, if it's not the Peace Corps God wants me to join or invest in, I will be content with whatever I am doing and whoever I'm doing it with--even (especially) if I'm alone. 

I would also like to take a moment to say: it's important to find people who support your dreams.  Even if they wouldn't want them for themselves, or if they don't think it's possible.  You should  surround yourself with people who believe in you, and want you to succeed in anything short of sin.  If it's glorying God and it's on your heart, friends and relationships should be the ones building you up and encouraging you along the way.  I have been blessed beyond comprehension in this area.  

For Christmas a few years ago, my sister gave me this ring to remind me to always go for my dream.  "Even if it's not the Peace Corps, Chloe, never give up on yourself.  I'm your biggest fan." 

Recap

You can't plan your whole life.

Everybody's life is different. Don't compare. If you don't like it; it's not your life to love. Do something else.  

Have Big dreams, because you're created by a Big God.

Support your friends and surround yourself with supportive friends. Don't get bitter towards the ones who don't.  Remember the ones who do.

Don't Talk

Randy Pausch was known for his inspirational words (and a lot more), "No matter how bad things are, you can always make things worse."

(What a hunk.
Oh! This is my pal Randy)

And men and women, that is true inspiration.  Not the sweetest, happiest, or most encouraging thing you've ever heard.  However, so truthful.  You can always make things worse.  (trying emphasizing different words of that last sentence. *wow cool!*)

I've noticed something- I talk a lot. I'm not opposed to taking a joke too far and being the only one laughing ten minutes in, or lecturing my friend on "how eating five Oreos all at once reduces the calorie intake", or explaining to my siblings that I am not the weirdest sibling and that having opossum blood in a Walmart bag in my trunk isn't that creepy, or telling the officer who pulled me over all my talents, and how I graduated high school at the age of eighteen, and yes, I'm aware that's normal but did you know my mascot was the 'Redskin', and how it can be offensive, but you already know that... and please don't give me a $175 ticket...  I love ice cream and a ticket isn't sweet like chunky monkey which is one of my favorites flavors, but sometimes the chocolate chunks stick to my teeth and that isn't very good, like how the call to my parents will end up if you continue to write on that pad... (917) 514-2719... but please reconsider your decision because I am responsible... 832 Drummond hall Stillwater, OK 74074... and I brush my teeth three times a day and go to bed early(ish)... and yes, Sir. I will attend court, you have a nice day, too.  Bleh.

(In case you wanted to know.. .
the opossum blood is from an opossum-road kill
for a prank.)

But sometimes I need to shut up.

When it comes down to it, Pausch was right.  Words are a perfect example of how you can make something worse. 

I think specifically girls (and some guys) tend to "vent" a lot.  "Oh, LET IT OUT! IT IS NOT HEALTHY TO KEEP THAT IN! *shoves five Oreos down their throat* (it's healthy that way. like eating broccoli or something like that).  "Oh, I'm just sharing, because I'm worried/concerned" and "it just really hurt my feelings, and I needed to tell you"  And to be honest, one turns to ten.  Venting to a person in the same group of (people) friends isn't venting; it's looking for affirmation or comfort in the wrong places and in the wrong way.  It's so delicious, though, and if you say it's not- you're lying to yourself, or you've prayed about this, too.  One of my youth pastors growing up said he never complained about his wife to another person, because speaking those words to somebody other than his wife isn't being loyal or respectful.  That always stuck with me.  If somebody hurt your feelings telling another person isn't going to fix it.  "Well, it's not that big of deal. I didn't think I needed to confront them." Well, then don't share it.  If you're truly concerned about a person, talk to that person.     Sometimes it's so much healthier to just let it go. It's hard.  And trust me, I haven't reached perfection in this area, and I probably never will. But it's amazing to see how my group of friends have begun to practice this- going straight to the person and not talking about issues if the person isn't in the room.  It has healed, strengthened, and encouraged all us immensely.

In the Bible (Matthew 18:15-18)  Jesus describes how to confront a person who has hurt or sinned against you.  WE DO THE COMPLETE OPPOSITE.  We are told to talk to that person one-on-one, and if it doesn't work than get more help.  But what is popular?  We'll tell six people.  If the person we talked about finds out- THEN we talk to them... sometimes not even then.  With our words, we can make anything worse. If that's the case, we should be able to make anything way better. 

(Like here, in 8th grade, somebody should have told me straight bangs were NOT a good idea... but instead, I continued to sin against my head shape and all eyes of humanity. )

I challenge you to watch the words that come out of your mouth.  Is it uplifting?  Is it going to benefit somebody? This goes for yourself.  You're still a piece of creation, and you shouldn't always put yourself down. Invest your words into helping people, and you'll realize letting those stupid things go and speaking when it helps, will make you less stressed and more joyful.


And tust me I haven't gotten it down.  I just yelled "SCREW YOU" to somebody I care about deeply, and hung up the phone.  Needless to say, I'm working on it. :)

Focus on Your Toes

Focus on Your Toes

I’m an extremist.  It’s in my blood.   If you call it a “disease” and I will say, “hold still, let me cough on you, BECAUSE IT IS SO FUN LIVING THIS WAY”.  Now, if mentally stable is more your style, that’s good, too.  We need both people in life.  Being an extremist let me tell you about the best Valentine’s Day ever. 

12:30 am

Text:

My friend showed up ready to feed my adrenaline.  I know I could have easily gone to bed, but when I get an idea—I have to do it. It’s a symptom of Extreme Personality. And this idea happened to come to me at 12 in the morning. With my red one-piece swimsuit on, earrings out, and heart pumping, I got in his truck ready to make a memory. Now, I’m not a fan of illegal substances (despite the nose ring and thrift shop clothing) or intense partying (with the exception of birthdays, bar mitzvahs, weddings, funerals, and Wednesdays) wait, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah. So I try to be responsible with my body, but I’m an adrenaline junky, and I have to satisfy my cravings. So, we went to the lake.  We jumped in, and whale-flopped out.   We couldn’t feel our bodies, and we didn’t care.  Looking back, this was a good thing.  We took off running.  Not like, a little stride here and there, I’m talking full out- open field nothing in the way, run faster and fart harder- running.

Straight. Into. A. Metal. Pole.

1:00 am

“Chloe, get up! Let’s go!” “Ugh… help. Hahaha” “Wait, are you okay?” “I think my nose is bleeding”

1:03 am

*In the car*

“Holy crap. Chloe, don’t look. You’re not allowed to look at your face”

“What? Hahahaha why!!! Let me see, I’m sure it’s fine”

 “I’m taking you to the E.R.”

“Hahahaha I’m sure I’m fine! We’ll just put some butterfly Band-Aids on it.”

“How do you feel right now?”

With blood coming down my head, I said, “my toes hurt”

“Haha okay Chloe, just focus on your toes”

1:10 am

 I called my mom and got some advice.  I think the best advice was, “Chloe, I know your personality, but the nurses don’t.  You will have to clarify you have not been drinking and that you are always laughing.  They will be concerned of blood thinning.”  So we went to the E.R.  And it was a blast! They asked me how much I was hurting, I laughed, “My toe really hurts!”  The P.A said, “Okay, just focus on those toes”.  The nurse, P.A, and doctor were amazing! The nurse with three kids and glitter all over her face from wearing a wreath on her head, was like an older sister encouraging and laughing with me along the way! Epically when I told them to pluck my eyebrows while they were up there.  They didn’t.  I forgave them. The P.A was O.C.D and gave me 14 stiches on the 14^th day of the month (he never denied the accusation that he did it on purpose).  The doctor was the most socially awkward guy I have ever met.  Asking me, “What have you been drinking?”  “Nothing, Sr.”  “Why are you laughing so much? Is this normal, or caused by the injury” Thank goodness my friend was there to back me up. “No, sir. I’m high on Jesus Christ! I guess it’s funny how things like this work out.  Great memories, right!?”  Tired from seeing what he referred to as, “stupid freshmen getting hurt”, he didn’t laugh.  But I did.  The P.A said, “I misjudged you two a lot.  One-piece swimsuit and no alcohol. I guess I supposed drinking and naked at 12 am on the weekend.” And that was the best compliment ever. 

God’s shown me so much with these stiches. 

1.     After getting over a cold sore, a bad acne breakout, and a minor cut on my face, I was feeling pretty good about myself. Then this happened.  And again, I have been reminded that beauty is the heart, and I am His.

2.     Serving the homeless in Oklahoma City, I was overwhelmed with how selfish I am. They were more concerned with my head than their living condition.  How the culture tells us we are “allowed” to be self-consumed when something interferes with our normal appearance.  When in reality, we are called to be more than our image. 

3.     You don’t have to be drunk and naked to do something really stupid.

4.     You need really good friends that will take you to the E.R., laugh at you, encourage you, poke your stitches, look at your eyes when you talk, eat too much with you, pull pranks with, and argue until you’re laughing.

5.     With fourteen stitches on your forehead, you can’t go up to kids in Subway and say “Hi, little girl! I love your dress”

I was able to laugh the entire morning of and days after.  I told my friend (as I am holding my towel drenched in blood) on our way to the E.R., “If I could do it again, I would”.

I believe God has been showing me life isn’t about living perfectly; it’s about living honestly.